


Catharsis

by goodworkperky



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempted Abortion, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Intersex Loki, M/M, Pregnancy, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:29:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodworkperky/pseuds/goodworkperky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I am using bare minimum just to see if anyone will read it through/at all. Obviously, I'm tagging for people's preferences/triggers.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am using bare minimum just to see if anyone will read it through/at all. Obviously, I'm tagging for people's preferences/triggers.

Like train collisions, car crashes and pedestrian accidents, everything hurts. Bones shift in ways they aren't meant to shift, and muscles and ligaments feel as though they've been torn apart with bare hands. Posthumously. It feels like a graveyard robbery. He feels like Frankenstein's monster. How apropos.

Loki closes his eyes against a sharp pain that builds in his lungs, in the pit of his stomach. It's as though a heated blade is being repeatedly stuck into vulnerable organs. Slowly. He can't stand the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. And behind closed lids are kaleidoscopes of colors that shift with waves of pain. Colors intensify, dim, transition. It makes him ill.

The god struggles to pull himself out of the crater in the marble floor-his should be grave. Trembling hands get him as far as the stairs. Those four short stairs might as well have been one of Asgard towers. But the need to keep moving was intensifying. Though he crawled to escape the pain, it intensified tenfold with every inch travelled.

The soft clearing of a throat cuts through the rush of blood in his ears and gives Loki pause. A heavy sigh passes quietly from between his lips before he pours a massive amount of energy into the simple action of sitting up. The blurred outlines of the Avengers swim before his eyes and he manages to focus on the reds and golds of the Iron Man suit, forcing the corner of his mouth into a smirk. Saliva pools beneath his tongue. He swallows hard.

"If it's all the same to you," he manages to say, "I think I'll have that drink now."

The pain in his abdomen is excruciating. It hurts to sit still, to move, to breathe, to live. But he stoutly refuses to show even the barest amount of discomfort. But thoughts are colliding together, bleeding, screaming for attention. It's like a hurricane inside his head. It's overwhelming. What he does know is that he needs to stand. Nerves are grated; he can't stand to be looked down on. With guns and arrow trained on him, Loki clenches his teeth and tries to rise.

It feels as though he's tearing open, a gaping bloody hole where organs use to be—blended. Knives are stabbing into him—crime of passion, back alley robbery. It's brutal and unbearable. Warmth spreads between his thighs, but the dark material hides it until it drips down to marble floors to stain it a dark cherry red. Loki splays long fingers over his stomach and retches violently. Knees tremble and he's collapsing as waves of searing pain radiate from his abdomen, down his spine. Bones tremble with the overwhelming intensity of it all. Broken bones merely accentuate like a macabre harmony.

There are dark spots in his memory, missing time he hasn't gotten back yet. But—he shoves the sudden invasive thought down into the deepest corner of his mind. Even still, a fear creeps up into his throat and makes him vomit harder. Loki can barely breathe.

Most of the Avengers aren't keen to touch him, but Thor's still holding on to the hazy definition of family and Tony's always been reckless. They both take a step toward the trickster but Tony's closer, extends his stride more. He ignores Clint's instinctive noise of warning and kneels, dropping his helmet to reach for Loki. The god's stopped vomiting and jerks away from the engineer, clenching his teeth against the cry of distress at the small movement as he curls into a semi-fetal position. There's no blast of magic, no scathing remark or threat from the razor sharp tongue. Thor stands beside him to look down at his brother but Loki's eyes are screwed shut as hands clench into fists. Questions spring to the tip of Thor's tongue, but he doesn't have a chance to give them life before they are all suddenly immersed in darkness. The flickering emergency light offers poor illumination.

"What the hell?" Clint murmurs as they all turn to the wall to wall windows.

The sunlight is blocked out, shattered windows covered by some thing. The ominous creak of compressed metal and the muffled sound of glass breaking fills air that has gone heavy with fear, air gone fifteen degrees colder. It prompts all but Tony to take a defensive stance.

Another strangled cry escapes Loki and legs buck sporadically, unaware of what the others believe to be impending danger. And at his sounds of distress, a massive vertically slit pupil fills the window space. The eyes of a snake turns is gaze to the trickster, pupil constricting as it focused.

Steve renders a quiet exclamation to God while Thor steps toward the monster as he shifts his hold on Mjolnir. The blood leeches from his knuckles with the strength of his grip. Natasha and Clint simultaneously take a breath and aim their weapons as the snake rears back its head slightly. The massive size of it makes their blood run cold and stops their breath for a moment. Slowly, it rests its jaw on the floor, ignoring the Hulk's growl of warning. And it shrinks.

Deep blue-green scales condense and transform, turning lighter and mutating into a man that stands nearly as tall as Thor. What had, just a few seconds ago, been a serpent was now a young man whose pale skin still resembled scales and bright green eyes that still held slit pupils. Despite these features, he is familiar in his lithe physique, lean face, and black hair that fell nearly to the small of his back. He stood naked on shards of glass.

Thor crosses the distance between them with his brow furrowed in anger and glass crunching beneath his feet. "Jormungandr," he said. But the young man recoiled from the hand that reached for him, hissing venomously to reveal teeth sharpened and curved. Jormungandr brushed pass the Asgardian without another glance and made his way straight to Loki who was gripping the leather straps of his armor so tightly his knuckles paled. Tight-lipped, Thor quickly bid the others to stand down. Surprisingly the Hulk obeyed though muscles tensed beneath near impenetrable skin and he rocked forward as if about to attack.

Through the almost violent concentration of sounds, bursting colors, and distress Loki felt cool hands gently touch his face. Automatically, lips turn up in a snarl and eyes fly open. Eyes near exact in color meet and Loki could immediately recognized his son no matter which form he takes. A shot of pain cuts through and threatens to drown him. "Jor—," he chokes out. He can't finish it but he knows Jormungandr will understand.

"It's not the end." The shape shifter speaks slowly as he acclimates to the human features. There is only one reason Jormungandr would be allowed to leave the depths of Earth's water and it would be Ragnorok. Ignoring Tony less than a foot from him, he brings scaled hands to the other's abdomen to hover above it. "Let me help, Father." Blue tinged light springs from his palms and transfers to the god.

Loki bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. It isn't enough to stop the muffled scream of pain. And he's on the verge of unconsciousness, but he knows with complete certainty of the life thrashing in agony inside of him.

"I need one of your healers. Help my father," Jormungandr says quietly as he turns his gaze to Stark, finally acknowledging him. "Save him. Please."

But Loki can't bear to be seen weaker than these Midgardians, weaker than Thor even. The searing pain has lessened only marginally, but he lurches to wrap his arms around his son's neck. "Stand," he orders quietly through clenched teeth. He chokes down a pathetic whimper as bolts as strong as Thor's lightning shoot down his spine down to the soles of his feet. His legs are trembling but he refuses to fall again. Loki pulls back slightly and stares at his son. There's the sound of Tony rising but he ignores the Avenger and uses his son as a focal point. A breath—deep and filling every space in his lungs. It takes a herculean effort but Loki runs. He ducks pass the others with their cries of surprise. Gunshots ring out, echoing in his ears as a dull pain hits his thigh, but the sky is so near and a there is nothing beneath his feet.

Loki lands with a sickening crunch. Bones already broken shift even more and break through skin. Blood is still warm between his thighs. It's filling his boots. Loki has to crawl on hands and knee as he drags his right leg along. Broken from the Hulk's treatment, it's shattered now.

It's a body he wants—Chitauri. More specifically, he wants one of the knives they carry at the hip. The sound of Mjolnir whirling through the air to slow Thor's decent drives Loki faster. He manages to get his hand around the handle of a blade as a hand grabs the back of his collar.

"Where do you think you're going, Reindeer Games?"

The god's vision is swimming and he doesn't know up from down. There's just the cold assurance of a blade in his hand and the knowledge that he'll win out in the end. Loki drives the dagger into the thinner leather armor on his side, clenching his teeth against the dark edges that crept into his field of vision and he is wholly dependent on Tony's grasp to keep him upright.

"That was foolish, Loki," Thor says as he takes a step toward his brother. "That was not a killing blow."

Loki can't help but laugh at that. But he's so filled with pain, so caught up in overwhelming senses, it sounds maniacal. Mania: the very word to describe events so far. His vision is dimming and its only vaguely familiar shadows that move. "Do not touch him," he hears Jormungandr snap. Fear builds in him again. He wants his son to leave, to stay as far away as possible from any Asgardians.

Tony shifts his grip on Loki to hold the god up with an arm around his waist, free hand without armor and clamping down on the knife wound.

"You will respect me," Thor growls.

"Respect you, Asgardian?" Jormungandr cries out incredulously. "You, who calls my father Liesmith, murderer of my brother. You, whose father rides my brother like a common beast and cast me and my siblings out of our father's reach."

"Shut up," Tony snaps. "Both of you." He doesn't look at either of them but sheds his other glove to find an erratic pulse beneath his fingertips.

Loki's choking on air, veins running black and blood painting his lips. His head drops back out of lack of strength and he can't find the resolve to push away from the engineer. The air is cool on the sweat-dampened skin, and it eases some of his discomfort. Something pulls at the corner of his mind, a vague thought. But he's drowning from the inside and can't be bothered to follow a thread.

Jormungandr takes the knife dropped amid rubble and his forked tongue goes out to taste the air. "It's poison tipped," he says as he throws the blade aside. Green eyes are wide with panic as he stares at Tony "Please," he says, an echo of his father.

Loki stiffens in Tony's arm like a board and a bruising effect shows beneath exposed pale skin. Thor moves to take his brother only to stop short as Jormungandr hisses and, almost as a reflex, takes a serpent form that takes up a good portion of the street though not nearly as massive as when he first arrived. Fangs are bared and venom drips down to burn little craters in the concrete. Thor shifts his grip on his weapon and takes a step forward. The hammers cuts up to aim for the shape shifter's chin. But Tony steps between them because Loki's trying to push away and do it himself but his leg is in veritable pieces and Stark won't loosen his grip. Loki cannot think of anything greater than the pain worth reacting to besides his son. More than sure of Thor's reflexes, Tony barely flinches as the hammer passes centimeters from his exposed face.

With the exertion of energy, the trickster goes limp and his eyes drift shut. Loki holds on to the image of his son and his heart aches in a way that has nothing to do with the poison in his veins. And he thinks that he's almost forgotten what his children look like, lost them in the anger and the despair, and here his son is, tearing fresh wounds into his soul. Whatever this child was that was growing in him, whoever fathered it, Loki did not want it. He could not bear another loss. He barely hangs on to consciousness.

"I need to get him to the lab," Tony says firmly as he stares at the blackening veins. He drapes the god's arm around his shoulders with his hand still firmly pressed against the knife wound. "The longer we wait—"

Back in human form, Jormungandr takes a step toward Tony. The engineer is still on edge and having Loki's son come close doesn't ease frayed nerves. He stiffens and Thor grabs Jormungandr's arm partly out of reaction to Tony.

"I do not have my father's patience. Release me," Jormungandr hisses and Thor lets him go with a small scowl. The shape shifter turns his focus to Tony. "I am merely here to ensure my father's child lives without fear of Odin's temper. I promise you do not have anything to fear from me."

The shape shifter put his hands to either side of Loki's head and his lips moved with near silent words. In the quiet, Tony could hear the faint snapping of bones as they shifted back into place, the bruising fades only slightly. Loki's breath was less harsh, less ragged. His breath came easier. Jormungandr drops his hands. "His wounds are less and the poison almost gone, but the bleeding will not stop."

Tony shifts his grip to carry Loki in his arms, leading the way through the broken glass doors of the Tower. He's certain Banner must have returned to a calmer state and the others must have shared the new information with SHIELD. The elevator opens to meet them as they draw close and the rest of the Avengers are waiting, Banner barefoot as he buttons up his shirt. Jormungandr hisses at the sight of haggard, hostile faces and tenses at Clint and Natasha's instinctive reach for their weapons. Steve merely holds up a hand for patience.

"Not now," Tony says quietly, firmly to the assassins. He turns to Bruce. "Can you help?"

"If you don't mind me at less than a hundred percent," the doctor replies. He sways slightly and looks exhausted.

Natasha's stare doesn't waver from the shape shifter as she says, "Fury wants Loki and…his son taken into custody. A med team and guards are on their way."

Jormungandr bares his teeth and steps forward only to find himself staring at Thor's broad back. "I cannot let you take either of them," Thor replies as his hand flexes around the handle of the hammer. "They are Asgard's responsibility and so their custody falls to me."

"You're insane," Clint spits out from between clenched teeth. He ignores Steve's noise of warning. "You're brother nearly leveled the city, body count is rising and this," he gestures to Jormungandr, "comes out of nowhere and you don't think he's going to—" He's cut off as Jormungandr in serpent form whips around Thor to snap his fangs mere centimeters from archer's face. He doesn't care that a gun is trained on his left pupil. Before even Natasha can pull the trigger, Jormungandr is inside the elevator, pushing them all out. Thor catches a surprised Banner before he can tumble to the ground. The shape shifter stares at Tony expectantly but the engineer doesn't move and he sways impatiently.

"I'm the one holding the cards here," Tony says quietly. "I need something to show some kind of trust in you."

Shifting back to a man, there's worry in green eyes. "Please," he says. "I don't care who this world is ruled by. Whether your cities fall or rise, I'm bound to stay regardless. My only care is that my father lives. If you will not help then I will take him to Hel."

"I'll help," Barton murmurs.

Before Steve can tell him to keep quiet, Loki goes rigid in Tony's arms. Teeth clench, hands turn to fist. In Loki's mind he is transported to frozen wastelands with the Other leering at him with rock walls as his backdrop.

"Your mind may have been cleared but you will still fulfill the agreement," the Other grinds out in harsh tones.

Loki's mind works quickly, sure the child was part of an agreement he could not remember. He thought of who he would strike such a high bargain with, who would want an heir from him. "Our agreement is finished. The plan has failed and so this child will be terminated." Even as the words left his lips, his heart clenches in despair. But he refuses to be manipulated without creating his own terms.

A wicked smile cut across the other's face. "You would be remiss to try. Do not think that you can escape life so easily as with poisoned knives. Carry to term and you may find yourself forgiven. If you do not then all of your children will suffer for it."

The trickster clenches his jaw. "Yet you would leave me to the Midgardians and Aesir despite the value of my unborn child." A smirk comes to his lips. "And what if they so happen to kill me while my magic is limited?"

The Other sneers back. "They would find it very hard considering your life is tied to Thanos'. We will come for you when necessary, Princeling."

Loki hides the simmering rage with a constant smirk, his mind thinking of the thousands of scenarios possible should he defy Thanos. Darkness descends for a brief second before the trickster is staring up at brown eyes tinged with worry and surprise.

Loki watches Tony blink almost owlishly and the last few moments come back to him in rush of sounds and smells. On near instinct, Loki's elbow jerks up, catching the engineer's nose. Multiple actions happen simultaneously. A sickening crunch sounds, Tony drops Loki, Natasha and Clint train their weapons. The trickster lands on a knee and rolls to gain distance as a gunshot rings out and the air rushes from his lungs in a strangled exhale.

Jormungandr rushes to his father, tackling him before Natasha can fire again and pinning him down by the wrists. More sure of his body and less apt to be restrained, Loki breaks free easily. But he is weakened and every movement feels like moving through water, sending radiating pain through his joints. He does not resist when he is pinned down again.

"Just how long do you think you can keep this form?" Loki asks with mild curiosity, propping himself up on an elbow when Jormungandr lets him go. He's trying to push the pain in to the back of his mind. But ragged pants escape him, chest heaving as he struggles for air. He catches Thor's hard stare and gives him a mocking smile. "Go on then, Thor. Tell me what a whore you think I've been." A hand is splayed out on the floor to keep him steady, blood muddying the brisk dust.

"It's true then," Thor replies as his hand clenches tighter around Mjolnir. "You would never bear another child unless you wanted it. Who is the father?" He takes a step forward with a scowl and gestures to the ruin outside with the hammer when Loki shrugs with feigned disinterest. "Did he put you to this? You've brought yourself this low, and for what? What did he promise you?"

Loki's face twist and contorts into a mask of uncontrollable rage and his eyes are almost feverishly bright. Before he can speak a word, Jormungandr has his hand dangerously close to Thor's throat in the space of a second, stopping short at a Loki's strangled cry of command.

"Do not speak on things you do not know," the shape shifter says with dangerous quiet before Steve steps between them.

The Avenger holds up his hands calmly. "Let's all stay calm for a minute. You need your father to get medical attention, Doctor Banner can do that."

"And what makes you believe I would take your help?" Loki grits through clenched teeth as he struggles to get on to a knee. Without a word, Jormungandr takes his father by the collar of his armor to drag him some distance from the Avengers. Loki gives a hollow laugh as he's dragged across the floor and leaves a faint blood smear in his wake. He stands only because he is held up by the breastplate, nose to nose with his son and staring at slit pupils.

"If you would leave your stubbornness and pride aside they could help you. Please." Jormungandr's eyes shift, boring deep down in Loki's soul. "I ask nothing more from you."

Loki sighs and a hand goes to rest against his son's neck. "I will not lie to you. Ask me nothing and I will cooperate with the midgardians. But promise me you will leave and find someplace safe."

"Father—"

"Promise me." Loki's grip grows firm. "You are the most vulnerable of my children. I cannot worry over you and remove myself from the mess I've made."

"I know you were not yourself," Jormungandr says almost desperately. "If you would only admit it even to Thor—"

"No, he is a fool who would get himself killed for the sake of wounded pride." Loki grips the other's arm as tight as he can in his weakened state. "I promise you, Odin taking this child is the last thing I fear." He pauses at the sound of tires rolling to a stop outside. "Leave now."

"For this one time, leave your stubbornness and pride. Give us the truth, let them help, and I promise I will leave," Jormungandr says pleadingly.

Loki's eyes dart to the Avenger's, to Thor. They are all well within earshot and he is not fond of the idea of being made weak before them. But the sound of heavy boot heels comes closer and it sets his teeth on edge. He shuts his eyes against the memories that clamor for his attention, memories that crawl through his defenses like maggots, recollections of too rough hands and teeth that break skin.

"Yes," Loki shouts as if the word were too hurtful to be contained in a mere breath. Eyes fly open to see that Thor and Stark had drawn closer, maybe afraid he would disappear or that he had fallen unconscious again. With mouth screwed in a scowl of disgust, Loki fixes his eyes on his son and takes a sharp breath.

"I did," the trickster says quietly. "I traded myself again. An exchange was offered—an escape from that rock, out of the dark." A sudden tremor ran up his spine at the memories that came, his breath coming so hard through clenched teeth that spit flecked the corners of his mouth. "All I needed was to produce an heir for him, with him. And I said yes because he was by far the gentlest. I let him in, let him twist my mind because it was a kindness." He stops as guards flood the room with weapons trained on him and his son. "You wanted truth and I gave it."

"His name." Jormungandr trembles with a quiet rage, his hands gripping his father armor so hard the metal bends. "I heard whispers through Yggdrasil but only fragments of things, never a name. Who did this to you?" He trembles harder when Loki firmly shakes his head.

Tony barely has time to process before Thor's grabbing his arm and the massive coils of a snake knock them all back. Jormungandr had returned to his natural state, coiling around Loki like a wall of flesh and bone with scales hard as diamonds. The SHIELD agents shot off a few rounds, but it did nothing more than irritate. Natasha's voice sounds over the cracking of the walls telling them to stand down. Tony can see the rest of the Avengers squeeze between the coils and the wall to reach them, Bruce dusting rubble from his hair.

"How long do you think he's going to stay like that?" Clint asks wearily.

Natasha replies, "More importantly, what do we do after?"

"It does not matter," Thor says as he takes a step forward. "My brother still needs a healer." He shouts Jormungandr's name but it does not cause a reaction except for the shape shifter to constrict slightly.

Without bothering to process a thought, Tony strips the rest of his armor. He almost feels naked without it. But he takes a breath and shoves himself between hundreds of pounds of muscle, ignores the sharp pain of his broken nose and hopes the shape shifter will be kind enough not to crush him. The weight lifts marginally so he can breathe easily. He grabs scales for purchase and finds them to be hard as stone and nearly as cold as ice. Fingers grow numb but Stark pulls himself along until his hands reach air and he can hear quiet voices.

"Let me tell you about the sea." It sounds like Jormungandr's voice but it is as though it echoes through Tony's mind rather than through the ear.

"Do not think that pretty words can make me stay," Loki replies, his voice a near whisper and trembling. It sounds like a familiar exchange between them.

Stark tumbles from beneath the coils with a soft grunt as he hits the ground. The Arc Reactor lends a dim glow to the small space. Loki is propped up with legs outstretched and blood seeping slowly through his trousers to stain the floor. He looks paler and his eyes are dim as they stare at Tony for a long moment of silence.

"You must be a truly reckless mortal to come where monsters are," the god murmurs almost in a thought.

"I guess we have different definitions for that word." Tony looks up and Jormungandr's slit pupil stares down at him. He looks back at Loki. "We need to get you medical care."

Loki's head lolled to the side, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "We. Yes, I did promise to be complacent, didn't I?" A pause. "Come here, Stark."

Tony hesitates for a second but shifts closer, jerking back when Loki lifts his hand and a golden light glows dimly in his palm.

"I made a promise to my son and I will not break it," the god says as he stares at Tony. "I do not intend to harm you." He touches Tony's nose gently and cartilage and bone mend beneath his hand. As his hand falls away, Loki murmurs, "Jormungandr, keep your promise."

The shape shifter hesitantly unwound himself. Tony went to support the trickster, holding him close to instinctively cover the god as shots rang out and Jormungandr lashed out at the other agents. Fangs snap within centimeters of them, but Loki murmurs words in a language that Tony doesn't understand, breath cool on the engineer's ear. The shape shifter stops but strikes the wall in a final act of anger, shards of concrete bouncing off of Stark's back. But it gets eerily quiet and Tony looks up to watch the serpent fade around the edge before he disappears.

"Get off of me, Stark," Loki demands out in a strangled breath with an inadvertent hint of a plea. He can't stand to be touched and to be brought so low again. The trickster squeezes his eyes closed and presses him hands to his abdomen as he's lifted in Tony's arms. Lips are pressed in a thin line and his body is exhausted. Loki lets himself drift into oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legitimately wonder how many people remember this existed. I sure forgot about it.

Loki feels himself thrown haphazardly between consciousness and the growing familiarity of unconsciousness. It feels like a weight is crushing his chest and he finds it difficult to breathe--like cement mixture poured in the lungs. Every exhale threatens to prolong his unconscious state, but Loki fights it. He remembers the threat to his children—Thanos’ promise. The pendulum swings, time running out. A sharp pain feels as though it splits his skull and memories he doesn’t want to admit to begin to rise to the surface. Even still, Loki drags himself back to consciousness as the air around him thickens with the scent of others. Hands are pulling at him, his own hands shackled and encased in an attempt to restrain his magic. And it tosses him into a memories that he doesn’t want. 

_Gaping mouths hover inches from his face, hands as hard as granite pushing and pulling at his armor. Animalistic shrieks cut through dead air and Chitauri expose vulnerable skin as they lay Loki bare on rock floors. Loki releases bursts of magic in quick succession, but it doesn’t do much except to stir the horde of Chitauri into a frenzy. Sharp teeth break skin. Claw-like fingers make gaping wounds. Thick, calloused palms encircle wrists and pin him down._

At first Loki is as pliant and complacent as a doll. But there are too many bodies crowding him, too many hands. Tony watches as the trickster begins to squirm slightly then escalate to writhe as if in pain. And the agents hold their weapons ready as the air sharpens and drops in temperature. Loki makes a noise that is a mixture of anger and fear. He breaks out of his restraints still semiconscious and with frightening ease. Delirious and responsive only to the rough hands trying to push him into submission, Loki begins to shift forms. He changes from man to bird, wings flapping uselessly as he can’t seem to get more than a foot off of the ground. Then it’s bird to wolf, teeth snapping just centimeters from vulnerable hands. 

Thor shoulders his way through the small crowd of guards. And when his brother shifts into a creature that the midgardians have never seen, he wraps an arm around Loki’s torso and lifts him off the ground. The trickster shifts back into a man, struggling as best he can.

“Enough of this, Loki,” Thor demands in his brother’s ear, his voice tinged with the hint of a plea. 

Loki’s heels beat against his shins and they stop abruptly as the arm around his torso tightens marginally. Breathe catches in the back of his throat, words stop short on the tip of his tongue, fear creeps down his spine. But he manages to call Thor’s name in a grating rasp before raw, undeveloped power rips through him. 

Thor is thrown back, losing his hold as a current of energy pulses and lashes out indiscriminately. Every exposed bit of skin feels as though it’s scraped raw. Everyone gets knocked back to hit the floor. Breath leaves their lungs in a collective rush. 

Tony scrambles for purchase, head spinning as he tries to get closer. But Thor beats him to it. The god holds his brother in his arms as Loki gives a hacking cough with blood painting his lips and chin. 

Loki trembles violently as he tries to redirect the last shreds of energy and heal himself. Green eyes flick down to where his hands are running frantically over his abdomen as if he could somehow reach inside himself and fix everything. But he can’t. He can only direct a wide-eyed stare at Thor. Because he needs help and he promised Jormungandr he would take it. 

“I can’t fix this,” he admits in a breath of near panic, in a moment of terrifying clarity. Hands go still, clenching into white-knuckled fists.

Thor looks up and catches Banner's eye. “Bruce, please.” The desperation is evident in his voice. 

Bruce looks to Tony who is already jogging to the elevator. “The basement levels are still intact,” Tony answers. 

Thor tries to move but finds himself blocked. His lip pulls back in a snarl of anger. “Move aside,” he orders in a growl as Loki chokes on the blood spilling back into his lungs. 

Mjolnir flies to his hand and the agents part quickly with hesitant looks written on their faces. A path clears and Thor half-drags, half carries him to the elevator, the doors shutting behind them. Banner and Tony stay on one side of the elevator, moving closer when they’re no longer under SHEILD’s stare. 

Loki shoulders Thor aside and braces himself on the railing. His arm trembles from supporting his weight and his hand leaves blood-soaked dust smears on metal. “Stop your heroic antics, Thor. My life is tied to the father’s, I will not die.” He struggles through a heavy sigh and wipes the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. A sneer appears at the sight.

“That does not mean you cannot suffer,” the god replies. 

Loki nearly gives a scathing remark but stops short as words whisper in his mind and the world tilts drastically, threatening to throw him off balance. Loki buries his head in his hands. Every exhale wracks his body and the child is pulling energy from him, draining him like a battery and radiating pain through his abdomen. Inhaling is just piling agony on top of itself until the trickster collapses on his knees. And as Thor reaches for him, he reacts instinctively and throws out a hand. A quick burst of magic throws Thor back to crash against Tony and Banner. It’s blunt nails dragging down raw nerve endings, crushing bones and ripping muscle. Loki clenches his teeth and holds his hand to his chest and watches in terror as the skin turns blue. The outline of the others’ blur and swim. 

“Enough,” Loki grits from between clenched teeth. Nails dig into the back of his neck, a fist hits the wall and leaves a dent. Words echo in vague whispers in his ear until he stands on the edge of insanity. And his heart stutters in fear; he can’t do this again.

Thor is calling his name, trying to cut through the last dregs of the tesseract echoing in his mind. A cry of frustration escapes the trickster, and he nearly calls Thanos’ name in a mix of frustration and pleading. But he snaps his teeth shut before he can finish and says something in a language only shared by the Aesir. An empty smile cuts across Loki’s mouth at Thor’s sudden silence. “Come, brother, I know I’m the clever one but surely you haven’t forgotten how to speak.”

Thor swallows hard against the overwhelming rage, but it’s not a battle he can win. Hands grab Loki’s bare arms and press him against the wall. Even in the fit of rage, he’s not oblivious to the fear that flashes in the other’s eyes. But he can’t stop. “Enough games and enough lies. Who did this?” The question comes out in a dangerous growl. “No half-truths.”

“Get your hands off of me,” Loki whispers, stare flicking between Thor’s eyes. Shoulders tense and he almost seems to shrink within himself. Golden flickers of magic try to sputter to life in the trickster’s palms.

Thor’s grip tightens without thought and continues as if he did not hear. “I want t—”

Tony steps up to him and lays a hand on his chest to guide him back because Loki’s hands are glowing with magic and he shaking harder than before. “Give him some space, big guy.” Tony doesn’t look at Loki but keeps his stare on a point between the gods. He knows Loki already feels like he’s under a microscope, he doesn’t need to make it worse. 

Thor releases his brother and keeps just within arm’s reach. It takes a visible effort to calm himself. “What words would you have me say, Loki? Your strength is in the construction of words and magic. If you would only tell me who did this then perhaps I could grant you some satisfaction.” 

Loki’s hands clench and unclench at his sides. Lips press in a thin line and he stares at the ground. “Satisfaction is not in my nature.” 

“Then tell me what I may do,” Thor demands. “I will fight for you but only in so much as my conscience may allow. I know well how dangerous you can be, but you were wronged in this and will not pay so high a price as your freedom for someone else’s deeds.” 

“My freedom?” Loki’s head snaps up and his eyes become bright with anger. “You think it is my freedom that suffers?” Lip curls in a sneer of disgust. “I will keep my promise and I will go along with your mortals. Let them imprison me, chain me, leave me to rot—I don’t care. But know this, Odinson, that the price I pay is not my freedom.” 

A beat. “And how long will I have to wait before you accept my help? Brother, I thought I lost you once and I will not do so again.”

“We would both be fools if I was to call on you for help again,” Loki replies in a hiss. He’s nearly doubled over, shifting his weight as if he could ease the pain. 

Elevator doors open with a quiet ring. Tony glances between the two gods and then to Banner. “Give us a second.” There’s a hint of a plea to it. 

Thor begins to speak but closes his mouth as if he suddenly thought better of it. He leaves and Banner gives Tony a questioning glance as he follows a step behind. 

“You need help. Help,” Stark emphasizes. “You promised—”

“What makes you think it wasn’t a lie?” Loki growls through clenched teeth, fists clenched until white-knuckled. “What makes you believe that I would tell the truth? What makes any of you believe I would not lie to save myself?” He’s sincere. He wants to know why this mortal man would take his word when only moments ago he would have killed him without hesitation. 

A moment’s hesitation. “I’d rather risk being wrong about you telling the truth than think that you were lying.” 

A wicked grin cuts across the god’s face. “You are a terrible liar, Stark. You think I’m lying now.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t help. If you’d let me t—”

“No midgardian medicine can help,” Loki cuts in, impatient. “Nothing you do here will be of any use. The only reason that I have not been taken is that I am unable to travel. Do you truly believe I would choose to stay here?”

“You really don't want this kid's father to find you. do you?" 

"He already knows where I am. He will always know, always see me. I could not hide if I had the power to do so."

Tony takes a breath. "Tell me what I can do.”

Loki looks down at where Mjolnir lays between them, keeping the elevator from moving up. He takes a hard breath as he holds a hand above his stomach, teeth clench to stop a cry. He can feel the last dregs of the tesseract echoes in his head, searing untruths in his mind in a ceaseless whisper. The whispered litany of accusations grow in volume and layers until words are nearly indistinguishable. It’s a familiar feeling, this crushing weight of fear mingling with uncontrollable rage. He knows where this ends and there’s a lingering sense of relief that he could stop fighting this. Descending into madness is easier. 

He doesn’t have to choose. There comes a familiar sensation that tugs forcefully in the back of his mind, commanding his attention. Again, Loki is drawn elsewhere. But it’s not the vast expanse of uneven wasteland that the Other occupies. It is cold hard marble floors, high walls, and a massive bed that holds an uncomfortable familiarity in the furs that cover it. Loki breathes hard like he’s gasping for air as a violent tremor runs down his spine. He drops to his knees, fingers splayed on the cold floor. “Thanos,” he says in a breath. A tremor runs through him.

Behind him comes a low hum from deep in a broad chest. The titan moves to stand before the trickster, towering over him. He’s larger than Thor even, taller in stature, broader shoulders. He takes up the space in whole ans with such ease. He leans forward only slightly, hands clasped behind his back as he stares down at Loki. The trickster will not meet his stare. It’s submission and they both know it. “You will not take this child from me, Loki.” It’s not a threat. It is fact.

Loki’s hands curl into fists and feels himself flicker between this existence and Midgard. 

_Tony stares down at him wide-eyed. He’s being shaken. Hands around throat. Shouts. Bared teeth. Flashes of movement like strobe lights in the dark. Flicker in, flicker out. He could have shone just as brightly as Thor. He could have. Can’t now._

A gasp. He tries to hide the spasm that runs through him at the sharp pain in his abdomen. “It may not be my decision.” Another nerve-wracking spasm. “I did not know it was yours. I swear I did not.” 

Thanos gathers him up as if he were a child, smaller than he is, weaker. Loki feels the warm heat of embarrassment creep into his cheeks and a shiver crawl over his skin as he is made to sit on the edge of the bed. Thanos puts hands to either side of Loki’s head and the god’s eyes roll briefly back in his head, the whispering insecurities of the tesseract draining away. For a brief moment, there is the sensation of razors being scraped along the inside of his skull, of being skinned alive. 

Loki breathes deeply as if he had forgotten the feel of air in his lungs. A new awareness creeps in, focused now on the titan’s almost electric blue eyes and intense stare. “What punishment am I to be given?” Loki asks quietly. He sways slightly, body not quite functioning right. A wave of nausea passes over him, and the trickster doubles over with arms crossed tightly over his abdomen. Seconds turn to minutes before the feeling passes. 

_Thor’s yelling in his face. Glass shatters. There’s a faint crackling in the air, the stench of raw energy. Loki feels his hair stand on end. Tony’s on the floor, gasping for air. Loki’s brow furrows in confusion._

“I am extending mercy to the birth parent of my heir.” Thanos turns to face away from Loki. Eyes focus on a wall of books, a whole library from all the worlds. There comes faint clinking of metal as the titan begins to remove his own armor piece by piece. Each removal raises Loki's heart to settle in his throat. “You will stay on Midgard until you heal. Make no mistake, it is an advantage to keep you, but I will not hesitate to kill you if you prove to be more trouble than you’re worth. Children are easily removed. You know this more than most. I will need more heirs, and in return I will give you the throne you crave.”

Loki opens his mouth to reply but chokes on words as his abdomen clenches in pain. It’s as if his insides have been put inside a clamp, like he is burning from the inside. A massive hand rests above his stomach and there comes a low command for him to breathe slowly. Loki grabs hold of Thanos arm because he’s losing himself, losing this battle just like he’s lost everything else. He reminds himself this is for his children. Some things can be brought back. He breathes slowly. After a few moments, Loki feels cold emanate from Thanos’ palm and the pain lessens to a persistent throbbing sensation. 

“This is not a full healing,” Thanos rumbles from his barrel chest. “Return to Midgard. There will be a token of good faith but its time will be limited.” 

Loki does not have the time to dare ask what it may be before he is shuffled off to the next plane of existence, thrown back into physical awareness. And he is bound now. Bright lights sear his eyes and make the trickster writhe in metal shackles that bind him to a sterile steel examination table like some lab experiment. An overwhelming fear seeps into the bloodstream, growing in leaps and bounds with every beat until his head spins and his breath turns to labored pants. 

Thor comes into view with lights haloing his frame. Loki’s eyes ease into comfort, no longer blinded and straining to see.

“What are you doing?” Loki asks in a labored breath with a small growl of frustration as he strains against his binds. 

“You were not yourself but as you were before,” Thor answers. “Stark has shocked your mind. Electroconvulsive I believe he said.”

Loki’s hands twist and claw at unyielding steel. “Let me out.”

“I cannot.”

“Let me out,” Loki says in a near scream of desperation. And when the golden god hesitates, a sneer can’t help but find its way to curl anxiety-bitten lips. The words that come are in the Aesir’s language. “Look at you, the thunderous god of Asgard. Look at the way these Midgardians stare at you. They think you so noble, so generous, a warm light for them to gaze upon. Look at them wonder at you. Thor, the god, a thing for them to aspire to be. If only they knew you for what you are and not the lie that you present.” 

A flicker of despair and shame cross the god’s face. “I told you that I have changed. Whatever I have done in the past forgive me and let me help you.” 

Loki nearly chokes on his words, so great his disbelief. “Forgive you?” He changes now to English. “As if it were a minor offense. Tell them of the rest of my children. Tell your precious team of Vali or Nari. What of Hel? Tell them of Slepnir’s birth.” 

Thor’s hands clench into fists. “That is your story to tell.” 

“Story?” Loki spits in a venomous rage. “You say it as if it were fiction. Loki the liar, the monster, the bastard son. Gods grant me favor that I have one child escape you and Odin.” Teeth clench to bite back a groan as a sharp pain rips through his side. 

Thor looks as if about to speak then thinks better of it. He watches for a moment as Loki rests his head back and tries to breathe slowly, gets overwhelmed and knocks his head back hard enough to leave a dent. He only sighs as he lays a hand beside Loki’s shoulder. The seconds tick by unbearably slow until the god leaves without another word. And the trickster unwillingly lays on the table, listening to the hum of machinery and his own labored breaths. It is a small consolation that this is not as bad as the isolation he had grown accustomed to.

Footsteps sound quietly on white linoleum floors. There is a hesitation in the footfalls as if afraid to come to close. Loki doesn’t care. It’s not the same resounding echo of Thor’s proclaiming steps. He looks over to see Tony standing well out of arm’s reach. 

“You look better,” he says with a small smirk that is as much a lie as Loki had ever seen. Bruises in the shape of fingers line his neck.

“A gift from the child’s father.” Loki bites his lower lip as tears spring unbidden to the corners of his eyes. “Certain magics can pass from one plane of existence to another if the practitioner is capable. I assure you, my mind is entirely my own.” He swallows hard and speaks slowly. “Please, let me out of these.” 

“I don’t know how to trust you.” 

“Please,” Loki says again, a little more sharply, more urgently. Panic is coming over him in tides. He’s riding high on a sudden swell. “On my children, I swear I am my own.” 

Stark folds his arms tightly over his chest, head turned away, eyes down. But the shackles come off with a hiss of machinery, and Loki rolls off the examination table still weak on his feet and shaking. “SHIELD agents are swarming the Tower looking for you. Fortunately, I always keep hidden compartments.” 

Fingers fumble at the buckles of worn armor. “Another glass cell to be put on display. How grateful I am.” He almost forgets to add the infliction of sarcasm. 

“This kid, do you want it?” Tony asks quietly as if afraid of the question and not the answer.

“Want is not a luxury I am afforded,” Loki answers.

“This wasn’t your choice. You don’t have to keep it. You—”

“Did I not just try that?” Loki snaps, voice raised, face flushed. Frustration at the mere inability to undo the clasps of his armor his building on top of everything else and he’s going to crush under its weight. “Did I not just fail?” he adds in a breath. Hands grip the edge of the table and he begins to shake. His entire body feels like an open wound. “I will not be responsible for the death of my children, not after everything they have endured. Do not ask me.” 

Tony had taken a fearful step back at the other’s outburst, but he draws closer as he sees that he doesn’t need to worry about himself. “We don’t have all the pieces to this insane puzzle, but if your kids are being threatened then we will help.” 

“How will you help?” Loki merely sounds resigned to imprisonment, to another failure. “At least with this child, I have the assurance that I will be able to watch them grow.” A hand goes to rest on the barest hint of a bump beneath armor. “I will have to teach them all I know. Their father will not let them be so easily taken—not by Thor and not by the AllFather.”

There’s a moment when Tony actively decides to think before he speaks, afraid of an actual honest answer. But he doesn’t get to ask before Loki stumbles, barely catching himself. The air sharpens with the sound of metal legs grating against the floor. Droplets of blood stain the floor and Tony gives a sharp curse as he steps behind Loki, a hand firmly against his chest to keep him from falling over. 

“I’m bleeding again,” Loki says with mild fascination as he stares downward with bleary eyes. 

“Hey, don’t pass out on me now,” Tony demands. “We still haven’t figured out how to fix you.” 

Loki puts a hand to Tony’s chest, feeling the hard edges of the reactor beneath his palm, and pushes him away. It’s a gentle nudge out of arm’s reach. He takes a step forward but the world spins like a top and he pitches forward, stopped from hitting the floor by the hand grabbing his armor. Stark eases him to the floor while Banner’s name leaves his lips in a shout.

“I am fine,” Loki murmurs yet unable to keep his eyes open. Fingers continue to try and undo buckles and clasps until he feels a callous palm over his. Tony’s figured out the clasps quickly enough and fingers half stumble to undo them. But he gets it done even with Loki’s halfhearted shoves and demands for him to stop. 

Metal clamors to the floor with hollow clangs, their worn exterior like sad reminders, likenesses of other children carved and beaten down. It doesn’t escape Tony—that engraving of Jormungandr. Out of some mixture of hesitation and ingrained social politeness, Stark leaves on the tattered under armor shirt. He waves his hand and snaps in frustration, “Jarvis, get Banner in here.” Loki is half leaning against him and trying his hardest not to, but his head is resting on Tony’s shoulder. Eyes close. Ragged breath. Hands close on the engineer’s bicep just on the verge of being painful. 

Bruce slips into the lab with a frown laced with worry. “He needs a blood transfusion, Tony. Anatomy is similar to ours, at least.”

“We don’t know what that would do to him or his kid.” 

Loki grabs Tony’s shirt with both fists but it’s more of a plea and less menacing. “You promise to keep this child alive. If you cannot, make certain I die first. Promise me this.” 

“He would never promise that.” A quiet voice says from behind them. 

Tony whips his head around to see who spoke. The room is empty but for the three of them. But Loki’s pressing his face in his hands and his breath hitches. 

“Gods, not you as well.” The trickster sinks slowly to his knees. “Please, tell me he did not send you.” 

“He did.” 

Tony’s mouth screws up in a frown of frustration. “What the hell is going on?”

A sharp, humorless laugh escapes the god. “Hel. I’ve just finished battling these mortals and they are on edge. Enough magic and show yourself.”

The seconds drag and Tony tenses against him as nothing happens. But Loki can feel the air shift almost imperceptibly, watches as Banner jumps. The monster in him feels the change. The air sharpens and the outline of Hel’s cloak comes to view, darken, take on more weight. Her hood is pulled up over her head to hide his face, her hands hidden in deep folds. 

“Hel.” Her name comes from Loki’s lips like a prayer and he jerks unsteadily to his feet like a child first learning to walk. He holds on to her shoulders to steady himself, breathes in the sickly sweet smell of decay, of death. There is nothing he wants more than to see her face and commit it to memory once again. But mortal men have an ingrained fear of death. So he places a gentle kiss on the top of her hood. Gods she is the smallest of his children—only reaching his chin. And he had held her longest, been parent to her longest. It makes him sick to think of time missed.

“I’m sorry,” she says. Her voice is like a bell, melodious and clear. He wonders if has always been that way. “My magic does not heal as well as Jormungandr’s.” 

“It does not matter,” Loki replies. “Did he harm you?” Thanos is cunning first, always asks at the opportune time. But the Other is like the rest of the chitauri. A shiver wracks Loki’s spine at the memory of too rough hands and fetid breath. 

Hel shakes her head. The wide hood barely moves. “He asked and I came. He…he told me you were carrying another child and I went to hear the whispers through Yggdrasil…” 

The trickster tenses. Whispers through Yggdrasil were erratic unless the listener knows how to separate the billions of voices winding and intertwining their way through. Hel has had centuries to practice and learn the art. She could have, if she wanted to, heard everything. 

“What did you hear?” Loki breathes and his voice is colored with urgency. “Please, Hel, let this be the one thing I haven’t taught you and tell me truth.” 

“Everything.” She is quiet like the calm before the storm, an intense rage shimmering below the surface. “Tell the AllFather his plan.”

"No. The world will burn before he takes another child of mine," Loki spits from between clenched teeth. 

"Then I will tell Thor myself." 

“Wait a second,” Tony interjects sharply. “What’s going on? What is Yggdrasil and is this another one of your kids? She doesn’t turn into a giant snake too, does she?” 

“Do not tell them,” Loki demands. “Promise me you will say nothing. Must I barter with both my children on this day of all things?” Shame boils hot in his bloodstream, rises up to color neck and cheeks pink. All eyes are on him and his skin crawls. He was a prince once envious of a throne and attention. Now he wants nothing more than remove battle-worn armor and hide from all prying eyes. A stabbing pain hits his abdomen and he realizes that he’s been flickering in and out of reality. A tight grip on his arm steadies him. Bone fingers keep him grounded. Hel has thrown back her hood to expose a face eaten away by death straight from the womb. 

Her hair is as black as his and so long that it falls to her knees. Her only eye is green, skin fair, and parts eaten away to expose bone and teeth. But she is full of life for one whose kingdom is starvation and plague. 

“I am alright.” Loki wants to reach out and run his thumb over her cheek, run a finger over the bridge of her nose as he used to. But his hands are so dirty now in a hundred different ways. He doesn’t. But he is trying to concentrate because she’s starting to dim and the world starts to tilt. And a second later, he is in Tony’s arm again. It is starting to become a familiar feeling--the feel of his muscles shifting, the smell of him. Brown eyes have taken on an edge of seriousness, of determination. He does not give her appearance another glance. 

“I need a real med lab,” Tony says staring at Banner. “All floors are crawling with SHIELD and most aren’t even in working order.”

“You have to hand him over,” Bruce replies. “They’re the only ones with the equipment until you get back online.” 

“They’ll interrogate him.” 

Loki might almost find this entire scenario laughable if it were not for the taste of bile on his tongue, the swimming vision. Not four hours ago he had lead an entire army of Chitauri. He trembles violently at the memory of them, the clamor they made as they overwhelmed him, the heavy smell of them pressing down. This mortal man is too hot. His warmth is seeping through under armor shirt and beads of sweat line the trickster’s brow. He wants to speak but his tongue is heavy and all that comes out is a strangled breath. Eyelids heavy, Loki stares up at the engineer and listens to the slow beat of his heart. Stark is torn between stubborn distrust of SHIELD and trying to help. Let him do as he pleases. All Loki needs is to bear this child and he may be able to breathe easier or not at all. Both are considered an improvement.

**Author's Note:**

> If by some miracle you made it through and didn't just shoot straight to the bottom then kudos for you.


End file.
